Lifetimes
by martinique
Summary: Vignettetype fic, in which Jiraiya bears news and Tsunade does her best to ignore him. Part of The Little Things Universe, but works as a standalone. Oneshot. T.


**Title: Lifetimes**

**Author**: Starapple (martinique on T

**Pairing**: Tsunade/Jiraiya

**Genre**: Drama/Romance

**Words**: 1343

**Warnings**: Pre-time-skip spoilers, based within The Little Things Universe. Stand-alone, but it makes more sense if you've read that one. (see my profile: martinique)

**Disclaimer**: Naruto does not belong to me.

* * *

Jiraiya sat on the window sill, admiring how very little the place had changed since it had been haphazardly thrown up in the first days of the move to New Konoha. Tsunade was ignoring him, as was her tendency. A scowl marked her forehead, and Jiraiya smiled at the urge he had to smudge it away with his thumb. As was his tendency. But for now it was far more comfortable for him to remain her, in particularly as he wanted to ask her about a few cryptic comments he had been overhearing lately.

"I knew this was a bad idea." Tsunade muttered, and he knew that she wasn't talking so much about whichever plan she had now cooked up, but rather about them. Her and him. Perhaps it was a bad idea, but it was one he had now firmly committed himself to. There was no heat in her words though, and Jiraiya took this as a perfect opportunity to bait her.

"You say that as though the men are knocking down your door, instead of being even too afraid to pass by within 20 steps, lest you commandeer them and their teams and send them off to some far off land."

"Pah. I could be having a fling with some young shinobi for all you know." Tsunade glared daggers at him for laughing with a snort.

"Who? _IBIKI_? Because that's as young as you're going to get!" Jiraiya guffawed.

"Says the man hankering after young girls in baths." she responded with a dry smirk.

"Ouch. You know you want this, I'm not in awe enough of your title to kiss your feet."

"True. Anyway. You're distracting me, and we aren't at home. So, what bad news do you have now?"

"Again, ouch. Am I only ever here with bad news?"

"Yes. Get to the point." the pen tapped at an accelerated pace on the glass surface.

"Well. I was talking to Naruto, and he said that if you were to ask him to go on a mission, he would have to tell you that there's no way he's going on a five-year wild goose chase. And then Shikamaru mentioned being in Old Konoha when he heard about the first reports of Demons around the countryside. And it sort of seems as though they may well have caught on to our...machinations, as it concerns the real reason why we sent Naruto and Gaara over. Not that its our fault that it backfired." he spoke with a certain magnimity, generously spreading out his hands in supplication.

"No, that's the fault of certain people you told me you considered trusted informants." The pen stopped abruptly, and the frown deepened, fixing itself on her forehead with a determined scowl.

"So... that's your only comment?" Jiraiya pondered, wondering if he was so lucky to be getting away with any hindsight-induced anger. She could be ferocious.

"Does it really matter? We ran the risk, it backfired. No point in getting upset about it, and certainly not at you." she raised an eyebrow.

"Wait, so you're not concerned that two of our most valuable shinobi consider us to be unreliable and untrustworthy?" disbelief coloured his voice. He crossed his arms behind his head and lent back.

"They'll look beyond that and know that we did what was best for this village. They may be young and naïve but they certainly aren't stupid about the shinobi-business. Or our role." she muttered, turning back to her work and writing terse comments on the margin for her fleet of administrative assistants.

"Fine..." Jiraiya trailed off, unsure as to how to drop the subject. He decided to wait out the silence, turning back to the outside and observe the comings and goings of the people around him.

The room filled with the sounds of pen on paper, and the occasional sigh of frustration or hiss of annoyance at what she was reading. Jiraiya patted himself down out of habit, searching for the pipe that as usual he had stashed in the inside pocket of his flak jacket.

* * *

It was later that evening, and Jiraiya gave a perfunctory knock at Tsunade's door, knowing that it would be open for him to walk into her place. He toed off his shoes, then wandered through the house, a place he didn't quite call home though he really should. Half of his clothes were here. All of his _good_ clothes were here, but he kept an apartment nearby. Not because he couldn't commit, but because she wouldn't. 

He'd long ago stopped trying. And perhaps at their age it didn't really matter, especially given what they did as a daily living. More appropriately him, given that he was still active in the field.

He meandered into the kitchen, ridding himself of his outer coats and then turning on the kettle. The surface was clear of dust, betraying the care of its owner. Brewing green tea, he set out two cups on the low table in the dining room, brought the tea in and preceded to make himself comfortable on the leather couch.

Further in, he could hear the bathroom door open, and then softly close, as well as her padded steps towards him. She came in a pale green silk bathrobe, the tendrils of her hair damp & curly from the long bath she'd had. Today, a jasmine bath, the scents were the only thing that changed in this habit of theirs.

She smiled at him, and he could see that her after-work bath had as usual done the trick, frown lines had been smoothed away and replaced with a peaceful visage.

"Thank you." she nodded at him, taking a sip of the tea after settling herself down opposite him. The moisture clung to her, and the silk grabbed onto it, moulding itself to her curves. Jiraiya liked this part, where they waited each other out.

He mostly lost, but then again, he saw it more like winning earlier.

"More tea?" Jiraiya asked, breaking the stillness that had enveloped them both. He had a sudden urge to move, even though he was comfortable under her warm gaze.

"No thanks." she replied, setting her cup down in front of her. She regarded him, and then patted the space beside her. Almost without thinking he rose and joined her on the other side of the room, an arm snaking around her shoulders to draw her close to his chest. She manipulated the buttons on his shirt, snaking fingers in to play with the white patch of hair at the top of his chest. It was a soothing gesture, as though in caressing him, she could massage away her own worries. And he knew that what he had told her earlier did now weigh heavily on her mind. Not as a Hokage, but as a human being. Always, always, the constant desire to please, to keep everyone happy. She only desired happiness for herself and everyone around her, but she mostly only went about it backwards, starting with others.

Being a Hokage could sometimes cause a conflict, and they both knew that trust that had been hard-earned on both sides had now been diminished – a betrayal is a betrayal no matter what the reason.

He brought a hand up to cup her cheek, pulling her towards as he leant forward and gently joined their lips. She made a small sound and opened up, hand pulling on his hair to bring him closer, tenderly deepening the kiss. When they parted, they rested their foreheads against each other, her eyes closed as he watched her through slitted eyes, hugging her closer and promising her all the love that he had inside him to her, for as long as she would accept it.

He wondered if she knew how desperate he was for her love now that she had tenuously given it to him to take care of, and he wondered why exactly it had taken them so long to find each other.

But then, she'd always been his.

**The End.**

Comments very welcome!


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